


Sammy's Got A Tail

by fanboi214



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animal Play Puppy Sam Winchester, Exhibitionism, Exhibitionist Sam Winchester, First Time, M/M, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25993702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanboi214/pseuds/fanboi214
Summary: Sam is being chased by demons and happens to cut through the world famous Folsom Street Fair. Best way to lose a tail is to blend in with your surroundings and well... one thing leads to another... leads to another.... leads to self discovery.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Sammy's Got A Tail

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, just a quick headsup there is no sex or anything graphic, but figured I should mark it mature for the kinkiness just to be safe. I don't really know a ton about the world of puppy play, so I hope I did it justice. Was writing to the following prompt:
> 
> The Object: A piece of fetish gear  
> The Character: A human pup player  
> The Setting: A park
> 
> Enjoy!

It was a trap. Of course it was a trap. Sam had warned Dean it was a trap and yet here he was, fleeing from a horde of demons. As far as footraces go, the steep and hilly streets of San Francisco were just about the worst place to be. The Winchesters didn’t have the stamina for this. And there were too many demons for them to fight. They needed to lose at least a few of them. Sam looked over at his brother, and he could tell Dean was having the same thought. “Meet back at the car,” Dean barked before taking a sharp left. Sam broke right. 

The younger Winchester allowed himself a quick glance back to confirm the plan worked, and it did. Half the demons were on his tail now, and the others had gone after Dean. The demons didn’t know who had the colt. Of course neither of the boys had it on them at the moment, but that wouldn’t stop them from pursuing the hunters. For a few fleeting seconds Sam allowed himself to wonder why no one was reacting to the rather obvious chase sequence in the streets of this major city. Wouldn’t someone intervene or call the police or react in anyway? This whole thing felt more like a cheap plot contrivance than reality and… God, Chuck really was a hack some times. 

No time to think about logic. There were still three to five possessed people right behind him and Sam had to find a way to shake them. As he rounded the corner, Sam’s eyes took note of some sort of gathering happening at the end of the street. Perfect, the good old lose your pursuers in a crowd routine. The closer he got to that crowd the more he noticed certain… trends. First of all it was almost exclusively men. Secondly there was a lot of leather. Was this some sort of kinky sex event? Was it gay? Did it matter? Nope. He couldn’t turn around. So full steam ahead. And that is how Sam Winchester wound up attending the Folsom Street Fair. 

***

Sam had switched from an all out sprint to a kind of fast walk now that he was around people. He was bobbing and weaving through the crowd, trying his best to move with no discernible rhyme or reason. He still had some unwanted company. Though he’d shaken a few of the demons two seemed locked onto him. Sam kept an eye on them in the periphery of his vision. But in truth it was hard for Sam to get a beat on the situation as a whole. While he tried to find his pursuer his eyes would being drawn to a man being flogged in the public square, or some guys dressed as dogs or a fully naked man holding a sign that simply said ‘fuck me.’ There was a very clear flaw in Sam’s plan. He couldn’t get lost in this crowd because he was very much not blending. Sam took a deep breath and then made a hard right just beyond the stocks. He followed it with a sudden u-turn, slipping into the middle of a pack of leather bound bears. The men seemed surprised to find him in their midst but no one was particularly bothered. 

It was a cheap trick. Something to get him out of the demon’s line of sight for just a minute. But that was all he needed. Now was his time to blend. Sam’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of his flannel. There was a grunt from the bear behind him, a short guy with dense blonde hair matting his exposed gut. He had heavy facial hair and eager hands. “Need some help with that?” The man grunted. 

Sam shot him a sheepish smile, “Uh, no thank you.” He squeaked as his damn thumb finally let him slip a button free. 

The man chuckled, “First time, huh?” 

“That obvious?” Sam said with nervous laugh, as he let his shirt drift to the ground. His eye flitted across the way. His demon friends were scanning the area. He’d lost them. Not he had to stay lost. 

“Don’t worry, kid. Lotta guys here will be into that. And for fucks sake calm down.” He slapped Sam’s ass playfully. “You got nothing to be ashamed of.” 

The crack was like a bolt of lighting through Sam’s body. He stiffened like a board, eyes going wide, goosebumps perking on his skin. The shock of it taking him more than the love tap itself. Maybe Sam was a little too green for that guys taste, or maybe he just had someplace to be but he kept on moving with his friends and Sam was without cover so the hunter ducked into a little tent that was set off to the side of the street. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw this place sold those puppy mask things. Something to hide his face. He’d just pop that on and then hurry back towards the car, hopefully ditching it before Dean arrived. He hated to even think how Dean would taunt him about this. He’d need to figure out a plausible excuse for the missing shirt, but that was doable. 

Sam tossed the mask in front of the clerk and reached back for his wallet, “How much for this?” 

The clerk shook her head somewhat disapprovingly, “It’s not gonna work, babe.” Her nails clacking as she rubbed them together. Off the confusion on Sam’s face she continued, “You keep looking over your shoulder. If you’re looking to disappear its gonna take more than that mask.” 

***

Sam had to get back to the car before Dean. It was a matter of life and death. If Dean saw him this way he’d die. He’d get there first, then he’d get a change of clothes from the trunk, say his clothes were ruined and no one needed to know about this. In addition to the black and blue puppy mask, Sam was stripped down to everything but a pair of very tight revealing black shorts, some knee pads, and paw gloves. Oh, yeah and a collar. Sam scanned the crowd, surprised that no one was staring at him. Of course they weren’t. He was the tamest thing here. Most importantly no one should be staring. He was blending. That was the point of all of this. The demons could be anyone at this point. He had to just slowly and calmly stroll out the way he came in. Easy enough. 

It was awkward at first. That was a given, but after a bit the anonymity felt like a relief. There was some simplicity in it that just settled down a lot of the turmoil that constantly roiled in Sam’s mind. What had once been Sam on constant alert for imminent threats had become a kind of leisurely stroll. The hunter found himself unintentionally slowing his walk as the exit came in sight. Part of him thought it would be a shame to get rid off all this so soon. Plus what was he supposed to do? He ditched his clothes at the stall. Was he just going to walk out of this fair and back into the real world like this? The Impala was blocks and blocks away on the other side of a park. Sam was so lost in thought that he didn’t seem to notice the man coming towards him. It was hard to gauge how tall he was, but it was big enough to dwarf even Sam. His large barrel chest was exposed, nothing hiding his heaving pecs or the many tattoos snaking across his caramel skin. The man was walking into the street fair when he noticed Sam, lingering by the door staring out at the world hesitantly. 

He strayed to the opposite side of the walkway, casually moving right up to Sam, “Well aren’t you a strange pup. Standing on two legs like you’re people.” Sam was completely thrown by this man approaching him. He flushed a bright red under the mask, cringing in embarrassment. And then becoming even more embarrassed by the embarrassment. His mind realized a second later that no one could see his face and finding an odd comfort in that. Who the hell was this guy? He had to be in his late forties or fifties. He looked tough, hunteresque save the spiked leather wrist straps. The thoughts fired off quickly enough in Sam’s mind but no words came from his mouth. He seemed stock still, caught with his pants down (or rather with his leather booty shorts on). He seemed frozen which was no surprise or care to his new friend who examined the tag on Sam’s collar which read simply ‘stray.’ “Street mutt, then.” The man said with a nod. 

“I’m… sorry who-“ Sam stuttered. But his words dried in his mouth when he was met with a stern, verging on angry, glare. 

“Pets only speak when spoken to.” The man intoned, “You understand that, pup? I’ll take you for a walk, but only if you can show some manners.” 

This was absurd. This man was… Sam didn’t know what this man was or what he expected of him, but he should call this off now. He didn’t seem overly aggressive even if he was authoritative. Sam should hit him with a quick thanks but no thanks and be on his way. Sam should make it clear that he’s not like into whatever this is. He wouldn’t want to give the man the wrong impression or lead him on or whatever. But his mouth remained shut. Something in his forebrain shouting ‘You HAVE to go along with this. If you act out of place the demons may see. They may still be around and if you’re not acting PERFECTLY in tune with this location they’ll know.’ Yeah, that was it. That was why he stood there, jaw locked, apologetic eyes welling up as they looked out through his mask at his potential owner. 

The man seemed to take this silence as a confirmation of Sam’s desire. He said, “Heel then.” Sam silently dropped down on all fours intuiting that’s what his owner wanted. He heard a soft metallic click and a gentle tug on his neck. Sam knew that he’d been put on a leash and that sent a rush of excitement through his blood. Sam felt a heavy calloused hand pat his head, before it curled around and fingers scratched him behind the ears. Sam let out a breath, his whole body relaxing at the sign of approval. 

“Happy pups wag their tails.” The man growled. Sam didn’t know what that sentence meant. He thought that he should at least try to make his master happy. He let his hips sway side to side, waggling his butt in an adorably pathetic attempt. The mysterious man let out a chuckle. His hand found its way down Sam’s neck and back before cupping Sammy’s firm smooth behind. “We’ll get that fixed, if you’re a good boy.” 

And from there Sam let this stranger lead him up and down the fair street. His mostly naked body openly displayed for all to see. He crawled on hands and knees, his head hung down low as they went. Sam wasn’t sure why this was so cathartic. He spent so much of his life fighting control, being defiant. His identity was disobeying. Disobeying his father. Disobeying God’s plans. Disobeying Dean. He was fiercely, proudly, independent. But this was nice. Maybe because what was being asked of him was so simple. And the way it was asked… it was all assumed. Like sure he’d roll over or sit or speak (barking of course) on command but Sam had decided to give this man the option to demand those orders. He put on this mask and these paws. Submission wasn’t thrust upon him, he had called for it.

In the moment Sam let his mind go empty. He did as he was told when he was told, for hours on end. In hindsight he’d wonder if there was something sexual to all this. He wasn’t having sex but like… this had to be sexual. Sam’s cock swelled in his skin tight pants now and then through the day, when his owner would be firm, or when one of the other pups approached to nuzzle and sniff him, when passersby stopped to pet him and chat with his owner. There were of course the moments where Sam nuzzled against the other pups and did his inspections of their butts and their junk. His body didn’t respond as frequently or forcefully in those moments but that’s fine. He knew he was supposed to do it so he did. 

The most overtly sexual moment was when his owner bought him a tail. Sam didn’t even know his shorts had a zipper there. And he’d never worn anything like that before. Part of his mind was hesitant in that moment. He thought maybe he’d draw the line there. Maybe he would speak some words. But when his owner held out his two choice, Sam found himself simply sniffing at one to indicate his preference. When it went in he let out a loud “Arooo,” his heart and dick both leaping a thousand miles. But he REALLY got used to that feeling and proudly showed off his tail to anyone else who he passed by.

Sam didn’t know what would’ve made him stop. Truly. He had surrendered himself to the game, and that’s what it was a game. But his owner had to leave and the day was over. The man, whose name Sam never got, simply told him he’d hope to see him again next year. 

***

Sam was deeply deeply confused by all this on his way back to his car. He had the sense to remove the tail, but his outfit was still eye catching. He was upright waling like a person again. He took a quick shortcut through the park that separated the fair from the stree were Dean had parked much earlier in the day. He was getting stares, even though he was legally perfectly decent in his provocative ensemble. Luckily it was San Fran so he looks weren’t TOO bad. He wasn’t sure why he left the mask on, maybe he still enjoyed the rush. Maybe it was to keep some degree of disguise as the sensation he was feeling moved further away from joy to humiliation. Either way this would not be good. Dean would be furious. He probably assumed Sam was dead or kidnapped. That was of course if Dean even made it back to the Impala. In that second it occurred to Sam that Dean might be in trouble. Oh God, what if Dean was somewhere captured and tortured for information while Sam was slutting around a leatherfest and- HOLY FUCKING SHIT. 

As Sam neared the edge of the park the Impala came into view. There were two men, bulky bodybuilder types both, in full puppy play gear. The men were down on all fours their leashes being held by a shorter guy leaning against Dean’s car. The man had tall chunky boots, slick black leather pants, an o-ring harness instead of a shirt, a thin black jacket, and atop it all a stereotypical leatherman’s hat. Sam’s first thought was Dean would murder that man for leaning on his car. That was of course before he closed a few more yards and realized that man was Dean?!?!

Sam approached the car stopping before Dean. He didn’t know what to say… how to begin to initiate this. “About time, Sammy.” Dean said plainly as if this were the most normal interaction in the world. 

Awed, Sam undid the straps that kept his helm on and slid it off his face. “How did you know-“ 

“Think I couldn’t recognize you?” Dean asked sarcastically arching a brow. 

Sam, processing the scene piece by piece, took a closer look at the men his brother had on leashes. He noticed etched on top of the puppy mask was a small devil’s trap emblem. One of the macho men’s eyes glowed black mere second later. “Are those the demons that were following you?!” 

“Two of them.” Dean said nonchalantly. He was grinning ear to ear and making no effort to move this conversation along. He seemed to be taking some delight in Sam’s discomfort and oddly showed no sign of shame at his own get up. 

“Did you, ummm,” Sam swallowed. “Also have to blend in somwhere or…” 

“Nope.” Dean said choosing to elaborate no further. 

They stood there an awkward beat before Sam tried again, “Where… How…” 

“It’s not my first time in San Francisco, Sammy.” Dean replied. There was another long beat before Dean stepped forward. He lifted up the tag on Sam’s collar and studied it. Letting out a simple “Hmmm” before ripping it off. 

Dean sauntered back to the car and opened the passenger side door and leaned into the car. He popped the glove compartment and Sam immediately noticed what he was going for, several metal pet tags. Dean tossed one over to Sam, who wordlessly caught it. Sam looked down at the tag which said simply “Dean’s.” Where did these come from? Did Dean have them made today? Did he know Sam would be dressed like this? How? Sam couldn’t bring himself to ask these questions. He didn’t want answers, not honestly. Dean didn’t seem intent on giving them. The older Winchester opened the door to his backseat and the macho demons piled in like well trained dogs. 

Dean looked back at Sam, “Get a move on, Sammy. I want to get back to the bunker so I can get to interrogating.”

Sam blinked “You don’t think they’ll try something or-

“They’ll stay in line.” Dean said confidently before looping around the car to the drivers’ side. “Oh and Sammy, don’t know where you’re at right now, but no dogs in front seat of my baby.” 

Sam let out a low laugh, not even thinking before he acted. He clipped his new tag to his collar, slipped his mask back on piled into the back with the other pups.


End file.
